


A Place to Call Home

by fembuck



Series: She Keeps Me Warm [2]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: Alternate Ending, Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Lesbian Relationship, F/F, Femslash, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-25
Packaged: 2017-12-08 23:49:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/767517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fembuck/pseuds/fembuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saxa is injured during the “I am Spartacus” raids in the mountains west of Petelia, and as a result she lives to escape north across the Alps with the other rebel survivors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flight

**Author's Note:**

> The story is an alternate-ending, or at the least a revised ending, to 3x10 "Victory".

When figures first appeared on the road that led to the foot of the Apennine Mountains, Saxa broke away from the rebels concealing themselves in the woods and took a forward position, crouching in the underbrush near the treeline with a dagger clutched in her right hand which could still hold weapon. 

She had broken her left arm in the last of the raids on the Roman villas in the mountains west of Petelia and because of that, Spartacus had forbidden her from taking to the field with the others in combat.  Saxa had protested, of course, jabbing her finger in Agron’s direction as proof that she could yet find way to fight.  However, it soon became clear that no new weapon could be crafted that could adequately compensate for her entire left side being vulnerable, and Saxa had reluctantly fallen to command, agreeing to look after those who insisted on waiting at the base of the mountain.

Saxa remained tense and battle ready, but as the figures on the road drew closer, she saw something familiar in the gait and shape of the men approaching, which eased some of her disquiet.  One of the figures was large and hulking with shorn hair and carried a circular shield with a strange protrusion jutting from the middle, while the other was shorter and slight with long-hair, carrying a spear at his side.  It was Agron and Nasir.  Saxa was sure of it.  And with that recognition, something that closely resembled hope began to rise inside of her. 

If Agron and Nasir were on their way back, perhaps the battle was going well. 

Perhaps Spartacus had once again managed the impossible and jammed cock in Rome’s ass. 

Perhaps the Romans were in retreat.

Perhaps victory was not such an impossible thing after all, and the road would soon be flooded with their wounded but triumphing warriors.

Perhaps she would once again get to pick up sword against Rome when they turned and marched on the capital upon a day.

With each thought, hope swelled in her chest, and when the men on the road finally came near enough to Saxa for her to confirm their identity, a large smile spread across her lips before she rose to her feet and stepped out into the open, making herself visible to those on the road.

“Saxa!” a female voice hissed admonishingly from the trees behind her.

The woman, probably Laeta, was closer to the road then where Saxa had left the others to scout for danger, but she was not close enough to the treeline to have a clear view of the road, so Saxa turned her head towards where the voice had come from, and called out, “Agron and Nasir, plus another on horseback.” She leaned forward then, squinting to make out more detail, and then added, “Injured it looks,” a moment later when she saw that the man on horseback was slumped over.

Without bothering to wait for a response from behind her, Saxa then turned back towards the road and started to stride towards Agron and Nasir.

x

As Saxa approached the men she was able to make out even more details, and the hopeful smile that had been playing at the corners of her lips since she spotted them, died.  Agron’s body was tense and the expression on his face severe, and Nasir walked with his shoulders slumped and his head bowed down, both of their bearing suggestive of ill tidings.

“Saxa!” Agron called when he and Nasir were close enough to communicate without having to project loud enough to wake the gods.  “Holen Laeta oder eine, die Heilkunst wissen,” he told her.  _Fetch Laeta or any who know the healing arts_.

A terrible feeling of foreboding came over Saxa at the sound of Agron’s words, and she found herself momentarily rooted in place.  The feeling of panic and uncertainty only lasted for a moment however, and her eyes soon focused on Agron again.  She wanted to ask him who was with them.  She wanted to ask him who was on the horse.  But, something inside of her stopped her from parting lips to speak.  Somehow she knew her questions would reveal a terrible truth, and she knew that she wasn’t ready to hear it.  She couldn’t do it, not quite yet, not alone.  So she turned, and headed back into the brush to fetch Laeta as Agron had requested.

x

By the time Laeta and the others concealed in the trees made their way out onto the road, Agron and Nasir had reached their position, and were helping the wounded rebel down from the horse. 

When Agron gently rested the man on the ground, all who were assembled were finally able to see who lay before them, and a deep and heavy quiet fell over those gathered around. 

They gazed down, at the blackened, bloodied body resting upon Agron’s cloak, their hearts weighted with sorrow, and even the sounds of the forest momentarily disappeared, no bird chirping or insect buzzing, as if nature itself did not dare disturb them as they mourned for Spartacus, their fallen leader, a god among men.

Laeta took position beside Spartacus’s fading form and Agron knelt next to her before leaning over Spartacus to hear words the words his cracked lips parted to break.  

As Spartacus began to speak, Belesa approached Saxa from behind and took hold of blonde’s good hand, squeezing it firmly, and Saxa’s eyes slid shut, immediately taking comfort in the touch.  Her fingers tightened around Belesa’s, a second later, clutching at them gratefully, not having realized how much she needed comfort until it had been given. 

x

When Spartacus’s eyes closed for the last time, the sky darkened and began to weep, honouring the Bringer of Rain with its tears one last time; and those gathered around joined it, salty drops streaming down their cheeks as they said goodbye to the man who had given their lives back to them, who had led them to freedom.

x

They gathered stones for Spartacus’s burial and then whispered their final thanks and goodbyes as they laid the stones upon his now peaceful form. 

After the last of the stones was put in place, Roman horns sounded in the distance.  The blows signaled the end of the battle, and instinctively the heads of those gathered around lifted and turned to peer in the direction Agron and Nasir had emerged from, searching for sign of survivors along the road, but their eyes found nought but dust.

Nasir spoke then, reminding those assembled of necessity to move, and with tears still shining in her eyes Laeta agreed and issued soft, but firm command to all around to gather their things for the march into the mountains.

As they stuffed objects into bags and tied bundles, as they packed carts and loaded the backs of donkeys, the eyes of those at the base of the mountain would sometimes drift back to the road, still searching, still clinging to hope. 

But when Agron gave the command to begin the hike up the mountain, the survivors turned their eyes from road and looked north towards their future, finally accepting the terrible truth that no one else was coming.  Not Gannicus, or Naevia, or Lugo, or Nade, or Sanus, or Pollux or any of the others that had marched into battle.  

Those that were gathered at the foot of the mountain were all that was left. 

They were all that remained.  

And if they were to continue living, it was time to march north.

xxx

The first night they spent in the Apennine Mountains on their journey north to the Alps, was cold, for they did not dare light fires for fear of attracting the attention of any Roman scouts that might have been roaming the area in search of survivors from the battle field. 

When they had finally stopped walking and made camp for the night, they settled themselves in small groups and sat in the dirt, eating rations of bread and salted meat.  When the food was done, they brought out what remained of the wine from the raids on the villas west of Petelia, and paid tribute to those who had fallen.  Passing the wine from person to person, they lifted the jugs in the air and said the name one who was no longer with them, then drank, before passing the jug onto another.

After the wine was gone, they simply spoke, sharing stories and memories of the friends and lovers and family they had lost.  They smiled and they laughed as they remembered times past, and though their eyes remained tinged with sadness, some of the sorrow lifted from their hearts, as they focused on treasured memories from the past instead on thoughts of present loss.

The hour grew later and later, and finally it was time for them to fall to their beds and sleep. 

It was a grim time for those who the night before had a warm body lying beside them, and a time of bittersweet joy for those who still had loved ones by their side, for their hearts ached for their less fortunate companions.

When Saxa and Belesa retired to their tent for the night, Belesa found herself cradling Saxa in her arms for the first time since they had become lovers. 

Once she had fixed their bed of furs and laid down, Saxa had crawled into Belesa’s arms and lay her head upon Belesa’s breast, her ear resting above Belesa’s heart so that she could hear it’s comfortingly steady beat.  And, mindful of the blonde’s injured arm, Belesa had carefully wrapped her arms around Saxa and held her close, as Saxa had done for her on so many nights in the past.

“You could not have changed the tide of battle,” Belesa breathed out, breaking the silence that had fallen over the tent once they had taken to bed.

“No,” Saxa agreed softly.

She knew that one more person on the battle field would not have altered the course of the battle.  If she had been healthy and able to fight, many more Romans would have died that day, of that there was no doubt.  The sand would have been watered with the blood of numerous legionaries who presently drew breath because of her absence from the field.  But fierce as she was, Saxa knew that she alone could not have affected the final outcome of the battle. 

She knew that, she did, but despite that knowledge she couldn’t help but feel that she should have been there.  She couldn’t help but think that one or two more rebels might have made it up the road to the foot of the mountain if she and her daggers had been there on the battlefield.

“Yet you wish you had been able to fight,” Belesa breathed out, softly, knowingly.

“Yes,” Saxa replied, her eyes slipping closed as a pained sigh escaped from her.

“I would be alone tonight if you had,”Belesa said, her voice cracking slightly as she spoke.  “I would be weeping alone in the dark, clutching cloak to breast in absence of beloved body … heart dying with every beat that throbbed absent you beside me,” she whispered, blinking rapidly to try and hold back the tears that formed in her eyes at the mere thought of losing Saxa.  “I know you did not wish it so, but I thank the gods you could not fight.  I thank the gods that you yet live.”

Saxa was quiet for a few moments after Belesa finished speaking, and then she shifted awkwardly in Belesa’s arms, her splint making it hard to move, though eventually she managed to prop herself up on her good hand so that she could look down into Belesa’s face.

“I had no desire to die,” Saxa breathed out, holding Belesa’s eyes.  “It is true, I longed to fight with those I stood beside in battle for years past, but I do not regret I live.  I would have that you hold my body in your arms, not only have cloak to clutch.  Do not think I would prefer to be glorious memory instead of warm body lying in your arms.  It is not so.  I mourn that I could not fight as I had sworn to do, but I do not scorn life,” Saxa pronounced, wishing that she could reach out and take Belesa’s hand in her own, offering comfort to Belesa as Belesa had done for her earlier that day.  Yet, this simple gesture was another thing that her injury robbed her of the ability to do.  “To live, and be free, is great gift.  I will honor those who sacrificed for us to be so.  I know we do not pay respect by lay down, crying forever blind to world because of hurt heart.  I know we pay respect with love and laughter, with eyes open and heart hungry, living a life _we_ have chosen.”

Belesa was silent for a moment as she gazed up at Saxa, and then her face relaxed, an open and vulnerable expression coming over her face as she breathed in deeply, and began to blink, fighting back tears. 

“Gratitude,” Belesa whispered, her eyes shimmering with as yet unshed tears.

“What for?” Saxa asked softly, moved by the emotions etched upon Belesa’s face though she was not sure exactly what combination of feelings she had produced.

“Existing,” Belesa whispered, looking and sounding a little hopeless as she gazed over at Saxa.  “For being real, and here, and loving me,” Belesa continued, a single tear slipping from the corner of her eye.  “I would kiss you,” she whispered a moment later, sounding awed, overwhelmed, and entirely in love.

“I would be kissed,” Saxa murmured, a soft sigh escaping from her a few seconds later, when Belesa’s pushed up onto her arms and pressed their lips together in a slow, tender, reverent kiss that brought tears to Saxa’s eyes.

Minutes later, when Belesa pulled back from Saxa’s lips, Saxa’s eyes remained closed, and she breathed in and out in a slow, steady rhythm; truly calm for the first time all day.  The sight warmed Belesa’s heart and she lifted her hand, bringing it up to Saxa’s cheek so that she could gently trace her fingers along the soft, golden skin.

“You need sleep,” Belesa whispered, her heart swelling with love when Saxa automatically leaned into the warmth of her hand, her eyes still peacefully shut.

“No,” Saxa breathed, finally allowing her eyes to flutter open, after indulging for a few more seconds in Belesa’s sweet touch.  “Need you,” Saxa sighed before leaning forward to capture Belesa’s lips.  “Please,” she continued, seized by a sudden and powerful need for Belesa’s touch.  "Make love,” she whispered imploringly, wishing that she could reach out and lift Belesa’s hand to her breast. 

“Heart’s desire is my command,” Belesa whispered, stroking Saxa’s cheek gently.  “Lay back,” she sighed, brushing her lips against Saxa’s shoulder as she helped guide her wounded warrior down. “I will see you well attended,” she promised before capturing Saxa’s lips in a slow, deep kiss.


	2. The Long Journey

The days and nights were calmer once they emerged from the Apennine Mountains and entered Cisalpine Gaul.  Though the area was a Roman province in name, it was peopled by the Veneti in the north-west, the Ligurians in Transpadana to the north-east, and the Etruscans and the Celts in central lands of Emilia.  Cisalpine Gaul was an area with few actual Roman citizens and next to no true ties to Rome, and once the rebels arrived in the territory, for the first time since the final battle against Crassus; they were able to marginally relax. 

Border region as it was, Cisalpine Gaul was still part of the empire, and the rebels knew that they were not yet in the clear.  They continued to stay off the roads, remaining encamped in the mountains as they continued north towards the Alps, yet the minimal Roman presence in the region did allow for some benefits denied the rebels for many weeks. 

For the first time since fleeing into the mountains they were able to send people into towns to fetch needed supplies, and desired ones, using some of the loot that they had taken from the Roman villas in the south. 

Spices and grains were secured. 

Clothes and medical supplies were bought. 

An abundance of wine was procured. 

For the first time since escaping into Apennine mountain range, they were living off of more than scraps.

“Do not give cause for me to come over there!” Belesa called out, glaring hard in Saxa’s direction as Saxa reached up with her left arm to remove her pack from the horse.

It had been around six weeks since her arm had been broken, and it had mostly healed.  Saxa felt that the arm was strong enough to be used again, but Laeta – who had become their informal medica – had expressed concern that the arm was not completely restored and recommended that Saxa continue to rest it as much as possible.  Belesa had interpreted Laeta’s words to mean Saxa was to keep her arm hanging loosely at her side, never using it for anything more strenuous than picking pretty flowers, and as a result for the last week Belesa had often been heard yelling at Saxa from meters away, telling her not to do something.

“I give cause if I want,” Saxa muttered under her breath, removing her eyes from Belesa’s glaring form and turning to look at her pack, which was still sitting upon the horse.

“Agron stands at your side,” Belesa called out exasperated as Saxa’s hand started to creep up again.

“And grass lay beneath your feet.  Why mention?” Saxa called back to her petulantly.

Belesa made no verbal response to Saxa’s words, but after Saxa finished speaking, Belesa’s hand migrated to her hip, her head tilted slightly to the side, and her stare remained fixed on Saxa.

“Erlauben Sie mir,” _allow me_ , Agron offered, breaking the silence that had fallen between the two women as he gestured to the pack grandly, grinning at Saxa.

“Wipe fucking smile from face,” Saxa muttered as she stepped aside to allow Agron to lift the pack down for her, her surliness only making Agron start to laugh, his wide shoulders shaking slightly as he did.

Saxa glared at Agron in response, but this only made him laugh harder, and with a frustrated growl, she finally reached out with her right arm and punched Agron’s bicep, which brought an abrupt end to his laughter.

“Do not take fucking female drama out on our innocent self,” Agron replied peevishly, narrowing his eyes at Saxa in displeasure, before a mischievous twinkle entered his eyes.  “If quarrel were to turn physical, you would be at disadvantage for your woman is too far away to defend her delicate, wounded little bird,” he continued, grinning again as he reached and rubbed Saxa’s left arm with mocking gentleness.

"Bumsen Sie Ihre Mutter, Sie eiter-saugender Pisse-Sack!” _Fuck your mother, you pus-sucking piss sack_ , Saxa spat out as she glowered up at Agron.

“I cannot believe you kiss that blessed creature with such a filthy fucking mouth, you vulgar little shit fuck!” Agron replied, smirking.

“Scheiße-Fick,” _shit fuck_ , Saxa repeated, her voice suspiciously calm as she arched a pale eyebrow at him, her face a portrait of measured curiosity.

“Scheiße-Fick,” Agron confirmed.

In response to his words, Saxa’s lips pulled up in a wide grin, and then she launched herself at him, throwing her whole weight into it as she drove her right shoulder into his mid-section, successfully managing to throw off Agron’s center balance enough that her much smaller frame was able to topple him to the ground.

Impacting the ground knocked the sense out of him for a moment, but Agron soon recovered, and then the fight was on as he and Saxa began to wrestle in the dirt, cursing each other in German, laughing, and snapping their teeth at each other they fought.

“Agron!”

“Saxa!”

Their names were yelled simultaneously nearby and Agron and Saxa stilled their struggling, peering up in concert, their eyes widening as they looked up into the disapproving faces of their lovers.

“I fell,” Saxa said.

“I was helping,” Agron added.

“You not do good job,” Saxa observed, turning to meet his eyes.

Agron’s body tensed as their eyes met, and he started to shake a little, and within seconds the need was too intense to fight any longer and he started to laugh.  Saxa joined him immediately, and their laughter feed off of each other, but they soon realized that Nasir and Belesa were not laughing with them, and they forced themselves to settle down.

“Look, arm is fine,” Saxa said, rolling away from Agron to get to her feet when they had finally calmed down.  “No pain,” she continued looking at Belesa as she lifted her arm in the air and moved it in different directions to prove its continued flexibility.  “Good?” Saxa asked, smiling hopefully.

“Um hmm,” Belesa replied, smiling back at Saxa.

However, the expression only lasted for a few seconds before it was replaced by narrowed eyes and then Belesa turning and walking away.

Agron started to get up as Belesa stalked away, his lips parted to break words with Nasir, but when their eyes met, Nasir shook his head at Agron in disappointment and then turned and headed in the direction Belesa had walked off in.

Agron slumped back to the ground, disheartened.

“Look what you’ve fucking done,” he accused a moment later, glaring at Saxa as he waved his hand in the direction their lovers had taken off in.

“It is unfavourable outcome,” Saxa agreed, having no grounds to contest Agron’s assessment that she had started the trouble that landed them in their current situation.

“Truth falls from lips like shit from ass,” Agron observed unhappily.  “Do you have suggestion towards resolving problem or only obvious words as to cause?”

“No dimples now, Sad Boy?  Where’d laughter go?” Saxa asked, smirking, as Agron’s look of displeasure deepened.  “Fear you cock stand cold tonight? Absent mouth to keep it warm?”

At her words, Agron’s pissy look intensified and he muttered, “We stand in equally unfavourable light.  What makes you so fucking chipper?”

“Female drama,” Saxa began smirking, “has female solution.  I go find wild flowers,” she continued, shrugging happily.  “Wish you luck with man trouble,” she finished with a smile, reaching out to slap Agron chummily on the arm before she bent down, picked up her pack, slung it over her right shoulder and began to walk away.

“Un-fucking-believable!” Agron muttered, tilting his head up towards the heavens in disbelief, as Saxa strolled away from him whistling.  “Sackgesicht!” _Bag face!_  He yelled at Saxa’s back, wanting to get one last dig in before he turned his attention to his own situation, which wild flowers would not fix.

“Schweinehund!” _Pig-dog!_  Saxa yelled out without turning around, lifting her hand up in the air to give Agron the finger.

Agron glared at her back for a moment, but then he shook his head, muttering “Fucking Germans,” under his breath with affection as his lips curved up in a smile.

xxx

The nights and days were quieter once they finally made it over the Alps into Gallia and the territory of the Helvetti.  After leaving the mountains, they headed north towards the Rhine, and there, near the waters edge, the band of survivors finally stopped in one place for longer than a night. 

There, they were finally able to rest.

What was left of Spartacus’s rebels had all been united in their desire to leave Roman territory, but the people who composed the group had been taken from many different lands, and it was known that once they were free of the shadow of Rome, the group would divide into many smaller groups as people cast out in the direction of their homelands.

However, for a few days at the edge of the Rhine, they set up a true camp for the first time in over two months. They hunted and gathered, replenishing supplies.  They sat in cool shade and mended packs and clothes, seeing to needs that constant travel had left unattended. They waded in the waters of the Rhine when the sun was hottest in the afternoon, washing clothes and laughing as they splashed each other.  And in the evenings, with plenty of game in the woods around their camp and fresh water nearby, they feasted and told stories, making the most of the last days they had all together.

When time came to pack up camp and begin their journeys home, around a hundred people were to remain with Agron and Saxa, continuing north up the Rhine towards Germania.  The group was mostly composed of Numidians, Carthaginians, Galatians, Sardinians and others whose homelands were located too far south or too far east to reach without once again coming within Rome’s reach – though there were some who had decided to stay with the Germans, like Laeta and Sibyl, because they had no lands to escape to, for Latium had been their home since birth.

“I have gift!” Saxa declared triumphantly as she entered the tent she shared with Belesa, holding up a tied cloth in her right hand for Belesa to see when the brunette lifted her eyes from the cloak she had been mending.

“What is it?” Belesa asked, her eyes twinkling with excitement, as her lips curved up.

“Make room,” Saxa said, waving at Belesa’s lap and the area around her where her cloak took up space.  “I show,” she continued with smile when Belesa quickly picked up the cloak and set it aside.

Once the path to Belesa was clear, Saxa lowered herself to the ground and then carefully arranged herself behind Belesa, leaving the brunette comfortably situated between her legs, Saxa’s front pressed warmly against her back.

“Ready?” Saxa asked, holding the bundle in front of Belesa.

“You know it is so,” Belesa breathed in response.  “Stop teasing,” she continued, reaching up to lightly pinch the tan flesh on the underside of Saxa’s forearm.

“You are impatient,” Saxa admonished playfully, nuzzling her face into Belesa’s neck.

“Only when it comes to pleasure,” Belesa murmured, a soft, content sound escaping from her as Saxa’s lips brushed against her skin.  “A trait shared among all presently occupying tent,” she continued, and Saxa laughed because it was true.

“Then I keep you from pleasure no longer,” Saxa whispered before displaying the contents of the bundle to Belesa’s eyes.

“Cherries!” she gasped, her eyes widening at the sight of the rare fruit in Saxa’s hand.  “I have laid eyes upon exotic fare before, but never had opportunity to taste such wonders.  Wealthy as he was, even Dominus could not often afford them.”

“Taste wonders now,” Saxa breathed out, pressing her lips against Belesa’s cheek.  “Feast on what you were denied.  I bring more.  All you want,” she continued, picking one of the cherries up by its stem to present to Belesa.

“Have you had them before?” Belesa asked, taking the fruit from Saxa’s hand and bringing it closer to her face, peering at it curiously.  “What do they taste like?”

Belesa felt Saxa’s body shift behind her as the blonde shoulders lifted and fell in a shrug.

“They taste as kirschen, as cherries,” Saxa replied, somewhat at a loss as to how to describe the taste.  “Tart and sweet,” she continued, the words falling from her lips uncertainly, not sure that she was using the right words.  Her Latin continued to improve as their journey wore on, but it was still a struggle for her sometimes.  “They are good.  Taste and learn answer to question.”

“Okay,” Belesa breathed out nervously, and then she lifted the cherry to her lips.

“Be careful of pit,” Saxa warned as Belesa’s lips parted.  Belesa paused.  “It not cause harm, just do not eat,” Saxa said gently, realizing she’d made Belesa anxious.  “Go on,” she encouraged a moment later, nudging Belesa’s hand up towards her mouth again. “Eat.”

Belesa followed Saxa’s instructions and brought the cherry up to her lips again, then slipped it inside, a moan escaping from her a moment later upon getting her first taste of the fruit.

“I know that sound,” Saxa drawled playfully.  “You like.”

“I do,” Belesa agreed easily, reaching for another cherry and bringing it to her lips, not hesitating in the slightest now that she had already sampled the fruit.

“I would taste too,” Saxa murmured when Belesa reached for another cherry, so Belesa changed the course her hand was taking and held the fruit above her shoulder so that Saxa could take it in her mouth.  “That is not my meaning,” Saxa purred, lifting her hand to Belesa’s chin so that she could gently turn the brunette’s face towards her.  “I take taste from other source.”

Belesa’s lips curved up in a smile as Saxa’s meaning became clear to her, and she met Saxa’s lips gratefully when the blonde leaned in and brought their mouths together. 

They kissed for a long while, and when Saxa began to moan into her mouth, Belesa’s hand moved to Saxa’s thigh.  Saxa arched into the contact, her head tilting back luxuriously as she reveled in Belesa’s touch, but then she reached out and covered Belesa’s hand with her own, arresting the very pleasant things Belesa’s hand had been getting up to.

“Eat,” Saxa breathed out, bringing the bundles of cherries in her other hand before Belesa again.  “Though I often do not show, I can be patient,” she continued sheepishly, and Belesa smiled at her then leaned in and kissed her cheek before reaching for another cherry.

“How did you even see to pick these so late at night?” Belesa asked, leaning back against Saxa again, snuggling into her embrace.

“I pick before, when light still in sky,” Saxa replied as she shifted the bundle of cherries into Belesa’s hands so that she could link her hands together on Belesa’s stomach.

“You do not come from forest?” Belesa asked curiously, having assumed that gathering the fruits was what had kept Saxa from their tent for so long.

“No, from fix wheel on Little Thing’s cart,” Saxa said as she dipped her head down to rest on Belesa’s shoulder, her body relaxing as the familiar warmth and feel of Belesa’s body in her arms melted away the stresses and concerns of the day.  “Bad wheel made cart shake, not good for baby to be bumped around.”

Belesa placed her hand over Saxa’s where they lay on her stomach, and stroked the back of Saxa’s hand tenderly.

“You are a good woman,” Belesa breathed out, her heart filling with warmth for her warrior.

It had been well known in the rebel camp during the campaign against Crassus that Saxa and Sibyl did not get along, and it was equally well known why.  But when the band of survivors had headed north into the Apennine Mountains – all that were left numbering but a few hundred – whatever strife had existed between the two women was put aside, and Saxa had done her best to help Sibyl when she could.

The assistance Saxa gave Sibyl had started as a way for her to honor the memory of Gannicus, who could no longer care for his woman, but soon a tentative friendship had developed between them, and over the months they trekked across Rome it had bloomed into a true bond. 

Saxa still referred to Sibyl by old moniker of ‘Little Thing’, but it was said teasingly now, with a twinkle in Saxa’s eyes.  During their daily marches when Belesa was occupied in talk with Nadeae and Antheia, Saxa would sometimes walk alongside the donkey-pulled cart she secured for Sibyl once she had learned the girl was with child, listening attentively as Sibyl told of her the gods and goddesses she prayed to or talking to Sibyl about how life had been in her tribe.  When others made comment on her considerate behavior, Saxa always shrugged it off, often muttering, “For Gannicus,” in response to explain why she looked out for the girl.  But despite her refusal to admit it in words, her actions showed how much she had come to care.

“For Gannicus,” Saxa mumbled in response to Belesa’s statement, and Belesa smiled to herself before bringing another cherry to her lips.  “I see you smile,” Saxa grumbled peevishly, noting the amused look on Belesa’s face even though the woman had tried to hide it.

“Good,” Belesa replied, unperturbed by Saxa’s grumpy tone. “I would always have you know the love and regard I hold for you in my heart, made known through loving smiles and tender gaze.”

“I would win with daggers, yet again you disarm with words,” Saxa sighed, unable to maintain her petulance in the face of such sweet sentiments falling from Belesa’s lips.

“As you beguile me with all that you are,” Belesa said, shifting in Saxa’s arms so that she could see her face, a smile forming on her lips, as Saxa’s mouth curved up in bright, sweet smile.  “Tell me of more wonders that grow in the lands we travel to.  What will you tantalize me with next?”

“Blanket nut,” Saxa said nostalgically, longing for the familiar foods of her homeland.

“What is a blanket nut?” Belesa asked, turning to look at Saxa curiously, not at all certain that those two words should go together.

Saxa chuckled and shrugged. “I do not know Roman word for it. Maybe when you see, you will know what is it’s name. It grows from trees, and on end of branches there are nuts surrounded by little green leaves. They are like baby nuts safe in snug blanket made of leaves,” Saxa went on, her cute description making Belesa smile. “Baby nuts taste very good roasted, but pleasing when dry too. Also make feel very full after eating,” Saxa continued, patting Belesa’s stomach for effect which made the Thracian laugh softly and then take Saxa’s hand into her own. “I not describe good, but you will like. I will find for you when we arrive.”

“What else?” Belesa asked softly, a little wary of eating something as cute as Saxa's descriptions of the blanket nuts were, but resolved to trying it when they reached the lands they sought out, because Saxa was certain that she would like it.

Saxa paused for a moment, thinking, and then she said, “Lots of cheese and meat. Romans not enough cheese and meat. You will have full stomach when we in Germania. Not like when were slave … or like most times since seizing freedom.”

“Stomach may not always be full now, but heart is,” Belesa said softly, drawing their joined hands up to her lips to place a gentle kiss on Saxa’s knuckles.

“Will be happier when can see to needs of stomach and heart,” Saxa murmured before brushing her lips across Belesa’s shoulder. “But am glad heart is full,” she breathed out a moment later, tightening her arms around Belesa’s body.

Belesa continued to ask Saxa about the foods from her homeland until the cherries Saxa had brought her were gone, and Saxa began to yawn with exhaustion – tired after what had been a particularly active day, even for someone used to constant travel.

Belesa bid her lay down, and as Saxa settled on their bed of furs, Belesa put out the torch that lit the tent and then returned to their bed, and Saxa’s arms.

“I cannot wait to see the lands you describe and experience the things you speak of,” Belesa whispered as Saxa’s arm moved around her waist, pulling her close.

“I cannot wait to show,” Saxa murmured sleepily, kissing the back of Belesa’s shoulder.  “You will like,” she continued, repeating the words she had used often as she spoke to Belesa about things from her homeland.  “It is good there,” she continued, her words coming out even more heavily accented than usual as sleep began to claim her.  “We live free,” she finished, her lips grazing Belesa’s skin one last time before her eyes slipped shut and her breathing slowed, sleep finally claiming her.


	3. A Place to Call Home

Agron and Saxa were both Irminonic from the southern part of Germania, north of the Danube. Agron came from the large Marcomanni tribe north of the Roman province of Raetia, and Saxa from the smaller Quadi tribe, north of the Roman province of Noricum.  Therefore, when the rebels took to the Apennines and headed towards the Alps, there was never any question that once they made it into Gallia, that Agron and Saxa – and those who stood with them – would head north-east from the Rhine into Germania. 

There was a question left to be answered however, and one night as they traveled across the Alps, Agron and Saxa sat together around a fire, and put their minds to answering the question of _where_ in Germania they would go.

The obvious answer was that they should seek out the lands where they had been born.  But reaching the territories they hailed from meant turning east when they arrived at the Danube, and that would have forced them to travel, for a significant period of time, through territory that was dangerously close to the borders of Roman provinces - the same provinces they had been transported through on their way to slavery in Rome. 

Both Agron and Saxa had seen family members, friends, neighbours, and lovers killed during the raids which led to their capture.  Both had watched their villages burning, smoke blackening the air as they were led away in chains.  Both knew that their homes were gone, that their tribes had been destroyed, and that their families were dead.  As much as they wished it wasn’t so, they knew that there was no going home for them. 

Though the truth of it weighed heavily on their hearts, they had to acknowledge that traveling so close to the Roman border in order to get back to forests where no one they loved yet lived, would serve no purpose.  Embarking on such a course would only put all that they had fought for in jeopardy.  All it would do was put what they held dear in danger.  So, the decision was made that they would travel north along the Rhine, leaving the Danube and their former territories far behind. 

Agron had heard tale of a tribe who were hardy of frame, fierce in countenance, strategic of mind and of vigorous of courage living near the upper Wesser, and so that is where the former rebels marched when they left Helvetti behind.  

For weeks and weeks they walked north, following the same star until they reached the Eder River.  They then followed the Eder east to the territory of the Chatti, and it was there, that the former rebels’ long journey finally came to an end.

The size of their group, and the foreignness of many of their faces, made the settlement of Chatti they came across suspicious and defensive at first.  It was a large settlement, but not large enough to accommodate the near hundred rebels who had descended upon it and the Chatti worried that the strange group of travelers would try to take their land.

The Chatti’s unease was understandable, but it made the rebels first week camping in the forests near their settlement a tense and dangerous one.  Eventually, however, Agron and Saxa managed to convince the Chatti elders that their group posed no harm, and it was agreed that the former slaves could occupy the farmable land to the north and the west of the Chatti settlement.

It was rough going at first, establishing the new settlements.  Clearing land, tilling soil, building homes and fences, was not easy or quick work, but the former rebels were used to toil and demanding conditions.  They had become accustomed to having few comforts, limited food, and to long hours of physical exertion.  Building from the ground up was challenging, but they persevered, they struggled and they overcame – as they had overcome so much in the past. 

Agron and Saxa made frequent trips into the Chatti village in those early months, attempting to build bonds between the rebel groups and the Chatti tribe.  They provided wealth to the Chatti by bartering looted Roman gold, silver and jewels, for tools, grains, seeds, and other necessities.  They promoted friendship and understanding by sharing gifts of Roman wine around the bonfire in the center of town, telling stories of Romans and the battles they had fought against them to win their freedom.  They spoke of the long journey they had undertaken in order to get to where they were presently, and of the friends, and family and lovers they had lost along the way. 

When the rebel settlements finally had livable homes, they invited the Chatti elders to feast with them, and explore their settlements.  Agron and Saxa introduced them to all of the former slaves, allowing the Chatti to hear tales of the of the many lands they had come from in the broken German many of the rebels had managed to learn during their long trek and the founding of the settlements.

It took many months, and there were more than a few missteps and disagreements along the way, but eventually the Chatti came to accept the presence of the rebels in the lands that surrounded them, and the three settlements came to live and trade with each other in relative peace.

xxx

Saxa yawned as she walked into the main room of the farmhouse, and then stretched her arms above her head, attempting to work out the stiffness a full night of sleep had left in her muscles. 

The floor was cold against her bare feet, but she paid it no mind, knowing that soon she would be standing on the deer skin rug before the hearth, and that soon after that she would have a fire blazing. 

She was still half asleep when she reached the hearth and set about stoking the fire back to life, her familiarity with the task allowing her to attend to it without taxing her brain too much – which was a fortunate thing considering that she was never at her best in the early morning.

As the fire began to stir, Saxa detected movement out of the corner of her eye, and then a minute later, the kitchen came to life with sound as Belesa started humming and puttering around, gathering what she needed to prepare their breakfast. 

Belesa’s voice and the noises of the kitchen came together in a familiar and comforting harmony, and upon hearing it Saxa’s eyes fluttered closed, and her heart filled with warmth.  With her eyes still closed, she listened to Belesa for a short while, a smile playing across her lips as she did, but after a minute she forced herself focus on the fire again, working with renewed effort; hurrying to finish the task so that she could go into the kitchen and properly greet her woman good morning.

When the fire was finally burning, Saxa turned from the hearth and crept towards the kitchen.

“Your hands are cold!” Belesa gasped.

Stealthy as a cat, Saxa had come up behind her and wrapped one of her arms around Belesa’s waist, while her other hand slipped beneath the material of Belesa’s tunica and proceeded to inch its way up her naked thigh.

“Which is why I seek to warm them,” Saxa purred as her hand slid higher, attempting to slip between Belesa’s thighs.

Belesa slapped at Saxa’s hand as it nudged itself between her thighs, and then she reached down and pulled Saxa’s hand from its cozy haven.

“You did not put up resistance when I sought to explore body last night,” Saxa murmured petulantly, though she heeded Belesa’s admonishment and drew her arm back around Belesa’s waist, contenting herself with laying kisses across Belesa’s shoulders and nuzzling her face into Belesa’s warm, inviting neck.

“Last night found your hands distinctly warmer,” Belesa replied, her words transforming into a sigh as Saxa’s lips played upon her skin.  “If you would have me welcome day in glorious climax,” Belesa purred, leaning back into Saxa’s strong, lithe body.  “You must not use hands, but that which is always warm to the touch,” she breathed out, twisting in Saxa’s arms so that she could run her thumb over Saxa’s lips suggestively.

“So I am to have you for breakfast?” Saxa husked, grinning before she parted her lips to draw the tip of Belesa’s questing thumb into her mouth.

“I would certainly not object if you were of a mind,” Belesa sighed, her voice lifting in a moan a few seconds later when Saxa’s tongue stroked the length of her finger, teasing her with reminders of all the other wonderful things that tongue, and the mouth it was housed in, were capable of.

“You will be late to market,” Saxa warned, though she didn’t seem the least bit concerned with that fact as she returned her lips to Belesa’s tantalizing throat.  “Laeta will scold you,” she teased.

“You did not seem particularly worried about such things a moment ago when you slipped your hand between my legs, intent on pillaging sacred garden,” Belesa pointed out, a deep, content groan escaping from her throat a moment later when Saxa’s lips found the sensitive spot on her neck, that when caressed, never failed to make her toes curl and cunt clench.

“I cannot dispute words.  My intentions _were_ entirely dishonorable,” Saxa murmured as she slipped her hands down to grasp Belesa’s tunica and then began to tug it up.  “They still are,” she husked wickedly, a second later.  “Grip counter, bärli,” Saxa instructed, leaning into Belesa’s body to speak directly into her ear, as her hands worked below, tugging Belesa’s tunica until it was bunched up at her waist.  “I would not have you fall to harm when mouth drives you to the most pleasurable of heights.”

“Concern for safety warms heart,” Belesa drawled sarcastically, managing to hold her unimpressed expression for a few seconds before she gave in and allowed her lips to curve up mischievously.  “I would reward gallant behaviour.”

“Would you?” Saxa asked, arching a golden eyebrow at Belesa.

“I am behooved,” Belesa said, a smile growing wider on her lips with each word that fell from her mouth.

Saxa’s lips quirked at the edges, amused by Belesa’s reply even as her heart began to quicken – Belesa’s teasing tone and the wicked promise in her eyes, making Saxa’s blood warm with arousal.

With her smile still firmly in place, Belesa dipped her head down, and helplessly Saxa followed suit.  Under Saxa’s watchful gaze, Belesa then lifted her hands to the open neck of her tunica and pulled the sleeves down, slowly, until her breasts were revealed to Saxa. 

Saxa’s lips parted in anticipation, her pale blue eyes locked on Belesa’s dark nipples, longing to take one into her mouth and tease it to hardness.  She was just about to do just that in fact, when Belesa shifted, using her grip on the counter to ease herself on top of it.

Saxa’s eyes lifted to meet Belesa’s curiously.

“I would have you fall to knees now, Sandraudiga,” Belesa breathed out, smiling as she slowly ran her fingers up her bare thigh, biting down on her plump bottom lip coquettishly as she did.

Saxa’s eyes dropped from Belesa’s face to watch her fingers as the teased their way over her skin.

“I would feel your love,” Belesa breathed out as she parted her thighs, inviting Saxa between them. 

Saxa’s lips curved up into a wild grin at the sound of Belesa’s words, and then she sank to her knees before her woman and began to warm Belesa with her touch, properly bidding her good morning.

xxx

As Saxa sat down at the table with a bowl of hot oats and berries, the door to the farmhouse opened and the sound of boots could be heard on the floor.  Belesa was in the bedroom, dressing for the day, so Saxa knew it was not her who had just come into the house, but she remained seated at the table and began to eat. 

The footsteps were heavy, were male, and Saxa knew that it was Agron who made his way towards her, for no one else in the settlement would have so brazenly entered her home uninvited.  She and Agron had made arrangements the day before to go hunting, and when she had not show up at the meeting spot at the appointed time, he had obviously decided to fetch her.

“Is little baby not done with breakfast yet?” Agron asked, grinning down at Saxa before he reached out and ruffled her hair with his hand, earning a jab from her spoon in his side a second later.  “Here, let me help you,” Agron continued, slipping onto the bench beside Saxa and reaching out for the bowl, sticking his finger in to scoop out some of her breakfast which he then plopped in his mouth with smile.

Saxa stared at him incredulously for a moment.  Then she looked down at her bowl for a second before looking back up at Agron.  She bared her teeth at him and then wrapped her arm around her bowl and slid further down the bench in an attempt to keep her meal safe from any further attacks by Agron.

“How do you remain so scrawny, when she feeds you so well?” Agron wondered out loud, shaking his head in disbelief as his eyes ran over Saxa’s hunched, glaring form.

“Plenty of physical activity,” Saxa replied, her lips curving up in a wolfish grin, that left no doubt as to what type of physical activity she was referring to.

“Ah,” Agron exclaimed.  “So that is what’s made you so tardy,” he continued, eyeing her bowl in a way that Saxa didn’t like at all.  “You use her in sundry tawdry ways first thing in morning, and then put her hard to work,” he said gesturing towards Saxa’s bowl.  “You should be ashamed.  Give that here.  You do not fucking deserve it,” he said crooking his hand at her.

Saxa’s lips parted to speak, but before she could utter a single syllable, Belesa breezed into the room, responding to Agron’s statement as she walked.

“There is nothing tawdry about the ways I was put to use, though sundry I’d agree with,” Belesa declared, knocking Agron on the back of the head lightly as she walked by him on her way to the stove.

Saxa grinned over at him in amusement, and Agron glared back at her as Belesa reached the counter and pulled out another bowl to scoop what was left of the spiced oats into. 

“Here.  Though I know it to be your second of the day, I could not deny a growing boy a meal,” Belesa said a few seconds later, walking back over to the table to place the bowl down in front of Agron.   

“Growing?  Rotund perhaps,” Saxa cracked, earning deeply displeased look from Agron.

“That’s a lie,” he stated dourly, holding Saxa’s gaze as he spoke.  “I stand an Adonis,” he continued, his expression serious though a little twinkle had entered his eyes.  “I am shining example of male form, inspiring envy and lust among all who lay eyes on magnificent work of art,” he continued in the same grave tone as he gestured down the length of his body grandly. 

To his credit, Agron managed to hold the staid look on his face until Saxa cracked a smile, and then they both began to laugh.  

“Now,” Agron continued, schooling his features as he addressed Saxa seriously again.  “Drude,” _Witch_ , he continued, rudely.  Saxa stuck her tongue out at him in response.  Agron smiled. “Keep civil tongue in mouth,” he went on, pointing a warning finger at Saxa. “Or risk not returning from forest after hunt.” He made a stabbing motion with his hand.

“You might consider heeding own advice,” Belesa commented lightly, her eyes cutting towards Saxa pointedly before she slipped onto the bench in between the Germans.  “There is good chance she will stand behind you at some point during the hunt.  You’d do well not to put ideas in her head,” Belesa continued, looking over at Agron with a cheeky smile.

Agron looked over at Saxa thoughtfully.

Saxa grinned at him with murder in her eyes.

Belesa looked between them and smiled before reaching over with the spoon she had clutched in her hand, for Saxa’s bowl. 

Saxa looked over at Belesa, her lips parting to issue complaint, but seeing the warning expression on Belesa’s face, she gave up the notion of protesting and dutifully pushed her bowl to the side, making it easier for Belesa to reach it.

“Thank you,” Belesa said sweetly, leaning over to kiss Saxa’s cheek, and Saxa mumbled something that sounded like, ‘You’re welcome,’ under her breath as she dipped her head down almost bashfully.

Agron’s lips parted to no doubt poke fun at the blush touching Saxa’s cheeks, but Belesa caught his eyes and shook her head.  Agron sighed, but he acquiesced to her silent request and turned back to his oats, saying nothing.

“So,” Belesa began as Saxa and Agron sat in their furs, hunched over their bowls, shoveling food into their mouths like they were afraid they would never see any again.  “What are you planning on killing today?”

“Deer,” Saxa declared.  

“Wild pig,” Agron stated at the same time as her.

Upon hearing the others response, Agron and Saxa turned to glare at each other.  They held each eyes silently for a few seconds, and then at once, they began to speak.  They talked over each other, voice getting louder and louder as their language became cruder and their insults to each other grew increasingly creative and foul.

Belesa sighed and dipped her spoon into Saxa’s bowl again, and then brought it up to her mouth, mentally shaking her head at herself.

She should have just let them surprise her.

xxx

The moon hung brightly in the night sky as Belesa opened the door to the farmhouse and stepped outside, a mug of hot wine and a fur blanket clutched in her hands as she set out to find Saxa. 

They had left the house after their evening meal to take a walk to the house Laeta and Sibyl shared in order to deliver meat from Saxa’s hunt with Agron. They had lingered with Laeta and Sibyl for a time, enjoying drink and talk until the hour grew late, and then they had to set upon the road for home.

By the time they arrived back at the house, Belesa was shivering and anxious to return indoors, but Saxa expressed a desire to remain outside for a while longer, feeling too restless to be contained within walls.  Such moods often came upon Saxa, so Belesa left her to the night air and returned to the warmth of the house, setting wine to warm on the stove before busying herself with some sewing she had abandoned earlier. 

However, when an hour passed without Saxa’s return, Belesa armed herself with the mug of hot wine and a blanket, and set out to join her lover until Saxa was settled enough to come back inside.

Belesa found Saxa at the end of the footpath that led to the house, standing in the opening of the small fence that ran around the dwelling.  Saxa had her hands clasped behind her back and her head tilted up slightly, towards the stars, staring off into the distance.  She made a splendid sight, bathed in moonlight and shadows, and immediately a tender smile touched Belesa’s lips.

As Belesa walked, her feet crunching along the stony walkway, she saw Saxa’s body tense with one breath and then relax with the next, and she knew that Saxa was aware of her presence though the blonde continued to stare up at the night sky.

When she reached her, Belesa placed a soft kiss on Saxa’s bare shoulder, and then she moved slightly in front of Saxa and held out the mug of hot wine for her to grasp.  When the smell wafted up to Saxa and she realized what was in the mug, her lips curved up in a happy smile, and Belesa found herself helplessly smiling back before she leaned forward and kissed Saxa softly.

“You need to admit that winter nears,” Belesa whispered, shivering a little as she pulled back from Saxa’s lips.  “As much as I enjoy seeing you half-clothed, it has become far too cold for such attire,” she continued, reaching out to run her finger from the material that covered Saxa’s upper-abdomen, down over the soft skin of her exposed mid-rift, to the leather belt at her waist.

“I like the cold,” Saxa breathed out as Belesa situated the fur blanket over Saxa’s shoulders and then moved around the blonde again, so that she was standing before Saxa with her back to her. 

“Nobody likes the cold,” Belesa murmured, shivering as Saxa pressed the mug into her hands so that she could fix the blanket.

As Saxa reached behind her to shift the blanket, another tiny shiver made its way through Belesa’s body, and Saxa decided that had to end.  Taking a step back from Belesa, Saxa removed the blanket from around her shoulders, and then stepped forward, wrapping it around Belesa’s instead.

“Saxa, it’s too cold out,” Belesa protested as she felt the blanket come to rest solely on her shoulders, even though the presence of the blanket began to warm her almost instantly, the thick fur trapping her body heat, preventing it fleeing from her.

“I told you,” Saxa drawled, as she took control of the mug once more and brought it up to her lips, taking a deep, satisfying sip.  “I like the cold,” she declared, smiling as she licked her lips.

“You are a crazy German, like so many that now surround me,” Belesa replied, smiling even as she shook her head at Saxa, the smile still on her lips as she brought the mug up to her own lips, taking a small sip from it when Saxa pressed it back into her hands.

“It is true,” Saxa whispered into her ear as she tugged Belesa back against her firmly.  A sweet laugh fell from Belesa’s lips as Saxa handled her, even as a pulse of desire rushed through her body at the feel of Saxa’s pleasantly rough touch.  “And you favour it, do you not?” Saxa asked smugly, smiling as she slipped her hand between Belesa’s legs, and pressed it firmly against her womanhood, kissing and nipping at Belesa’s jaw as she did so.

“Yes,” Belesa sighed, “when it presents itself in your extraordinary form,” she continued, feeling Saxa smile against her throat as her words reached the blonde’s ears.

“Mm,” Saxa hummed against Belesa’s neck, smiling against the heated flesh.  “You flatter.”

“It is easy with one as easily impressed by herself as you,” Belesa murmured, an airy burst of laughter escaping from her lips a second later when Saxa made a menacing sound in her throat and then yanked Belesa against her, dipping her head down and pretending to bite at Belesa’s neck in retribution.

“Oh … no,” Belesa murmured in the least excited voice she was capable of.  “Stop! I would not have it so!” she continued without any conviction, and Saxa began to laugh softly.  “Trinken,” _drink_ , Belesa breathed out, holding out the mug to Saxa when the blonde pulled back from her faux attack on her neck.

Saxa took hold of the mug, and whispered, “Das ist gut,” _that is good_ , complimenting Belesa’s German before she pressed a quick kiss to Belesa’s cheek.

“ _Thank you,_ ” Belesa replied in German.  “ _But I sound as empty head in tongue of yours_ ,” she continued, and Saxa laughed, her body vibrating around Belesa’s as the sweet sound tumbled from her lips.

“You will improve in leaps and bounds as I have,” Saxa breathed out in Latin, nuzzling her face against Belesa’s neck.  “With assistance of loving teacher,” she continued gently, tightening her arms around Belesa.

“ _Gratitude_ ,” Belesa whispered in German, a soft smile touching her.  “ _My cuddly one_ ,” she continued, giggling a moment later when Saxa began to tickle her in reprisal for using that nickname.

“I drink,” Saxa moaned, her syntax slipping into old patterns – as it sometimes did when she was happy and relaxed.  “I need dull pain,” she continued, lifting the mug to her lips.

“You take issue with affectionate name, yet it but mirrors truth.  You cuddle me even as you complain,” Belesa replied as Saxa swallowed a large gulp of wine.

“I but chivalrously keep woman warm,” Saxa said, licking her lips.

“So, it brings you no pleasure to hold me?” Belesa asked, arching a dark eyebrow up as she turned her head to the side.  “It is but tedious obligation of _domesticated woman_ to hold me in her arms?” she continued, looking up into Saxa’s face.  “You but fall to command?”

“Your words are loaded as ballista,” Saxa breathed out, pulling back slightly from Belesa.  “But housebroken as I am, I will only draw you closer,” she breathed out, embracing Belesa firmly again. “Which, I will state – though you well know it to be true – is forever the chiefest desire of my heart.”

“I do know, yet heart swells to hear words spoken from time to time,” Belesa breathed, a sweet smile forming on her lips.

Saxa rolled her eyes in response to Belesa’s words, but the tender smile on her woman’s lips appealed to her, and she leaned in, bringing their lips together in a sweet kiss.

“You are a trying woman,” Saxa whispered against Belesa’s lips long minutes later.

“Yes, though easy in the ways you have always favoured most,” Belesa replied with a grin, reaching out to capture Saxa’s hand so that she could lift it and press it to her breasts.

“You did make memorable first impression,” Saxa chuckled, before caressing the generous mound in her hand firmly, as she had done on the day they met. “Though, that pleasure was but flickering candle to the raging inferno of desire incited now that heart yearns as powerfully as body.”

Belesa hummed contently in Saxa’s arms.

“Temperature rises, making cold as imperceptible as whisper on the wind, yet I would have us retire to house,” Belesa breathed in response to Saxa’s words, “Where raging inferno can be soothed with loving hands and mouth.”

“Our thoughts are one in this,” Saxa purred, pressing her lips to Belesa’s neck before she pulled back, giving Belesa room to turn around while she drained the last of the wine from the mug. 

Saxa then offered her arm to Belesa, and with a demure dip of her head and a happy smile, Belesa looped her arm through Saxa’s, and together they started back to the house, and their bed, and the pleasure that awaited them in each other’s arms.

 

The End


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